Recoil and Grace: Further Reading
by that-girl-over-there
Summary: One shots and missing scenes from Recoil and Grace.
1. Chapter 1

You're My Best Friend

Hands behind his back, Vision slowly walked the halls, carefully observing each piece. This was the third museum he and Tony had visited for one of their 'field trips' out into the city, and he had to admit, so far this was his favorite.

Vision was encourage to take his time, as the entire building had been secured today for their private viewing, ensuring they would be uninterrupted. Nevertheless, as he glanced over to Tony, trailing behind him, head bent over his phone, he couldn't help but feel a little pressured to 'wrap it up.' This was, after all, his fourth swing by the painting.

He paused again, before it, taking in its beauty. Of course, many of the paintings he'd observed that day were beautiful by traditional standards. But this was something different entirely. It invoked a feeling within him he couldn't articulate. A sense of awe mixed with intrigue and calm.

"Ya like this one, huh?" Tony said, finally stuffing his mobile into his pocket.

"Yes," Vision replied. "I find it ... pleasing."

"Uh, huh," he scratched his chin.

The painting itself was simple. A cherry tree whose blossoms were ablaze in deeps red and dark pinks, sitting on a honey colored field below a darkened sky. The colors were bold and fierce, yet alone in the field, it appeared so reserved. He had committed the image to memory a dozen times already, but he continued to wish to take it in again and again.

"Excuse me, miss?" he heard Tony say behind him. "How much for this one?"

"Oh, I'm afraid none of these paintings are not for sale, sir. This one is on loan from its respective owner."

"I see, and who's that?"

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that information, sir."

"Oh, okay."

He then addressed Vision, "Hey, buddy, I'll be right back, I've just gotta make a call."

"Alright," Vision replied.

He continued to appreciate the piece as much as possible, estimating their departure to be soon, judging by Tony's restlessness.

"Hey," Tony clasped his shoulder, startling Vision. "Sorry that took so long."

"I beg your pardon?" Vision asked.

"I was on the phone for like thirty minutes, have you been staring at this thing that whole time?" He glanced at his phone.

"I..." Had he? Vision had a perfect understanding and calculation of the passage of time. Currently, he only ever absentmindedly neglected it when he was meditating with Wanda.

A well dressed man in his late fifties approached them. "Hello, Mr Stark, I was just informed. Congratulations. My name is Thomas. There are just a few items we have here that need to be signed," he held out a small stack of papers.

Tony blinked at him. "Uh, thanks. But, sorry, I don't like to be handed things," he explained as Vision accepted the papers and examined them.

"You purchased the museum?" Vision inquired.

"Yeah, needed to get what's-his-name's name," he gestured to the painting. "Could've had some people look into it, sure, but I really want to get outta here." He then turned to Thomas, "We'll be taking that one to go," he pointed to the painting again.

"Sir, I'm afraid it's—"

"On loan from the owner, I know. That's me now."

As the two continued their conversation, Vision looked over the paperwork. All appeared to be in order.

"Right," Tony concluded. "So if you could just wrap that up, we'll be outta your hair." He turned to Vision, who passed the papers to him. "How's it lookin'? Everything ship shape?"

"I believe so, sir. Your signature is required on a few pages."

"Turn around real quick," pressing the documents against Vision's back, he began to sign on the numerous dotted lines.

"Pages seven, twelve, initial thirteen, sixteen, and eighteen, sir," Vision informed him as Tony signed them sloppily against his back.

Tony handed the documents to the Thomas as a crew began to remove the painting and crate it. "I don't think that's gonna fit in the Audi," he murmured.

"No, sir, it will not."

Tony frowned and made another call.

Vision watched curiously as it was packed, wondering what Tony would do with the painting.

"Hey, Vision?" Tony called, his hand over the receiver, "Where do you want it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Tower or the compound?"

"The painting, sir?"

"Yeah, it's yours, so where do you want it?"

Vision nearly stuttered. "The compound is where I most reside now."

"Sounds good," he turned back to the phone, reciting the address.

At last, the painting was crated and wheeled off as Tony pocketed his phone and approached.

"Alright," he said, "let's get out of here."

Vision processed what had just happened. Tony had purchased the museum to purchase the painting ... for him. "Sir, I- _thank you_."

"Don't mention it," Tony dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Besides, Pepper's always saying we should invest more in the arts. This counts, right?" He grinned as they began to make their way to the exit. "Hey, you think that pretzel place we passed earlier is still open?"

"The hours posted on the door would indicate so."

"Cool."

xx

When at last it arrived, Vision eagerly hung the painting in his room after carefully inspecting it for any damage that may have occurred during transport. Luckily, it was in pristine condition.

Stepping back after placing it on the wall, he looked about his otherwise completely bare room with a frown. From the lobby, he borrowed two chairs and a glass side table. After repositioning them two dozen times, he was finally satisfied. Alas, something still wasn't right. Glancing up to the light on his ceiling, he frowned again. 'No,' he thought, 'That won't do at all.'

After much research, he installed a more pleasing light source and angled it correctly. Stepping back, hands on his hips, he grinned. It was perfect.

Thinking it pertinent that his friends view the piece under similar conditions as himself, he invited them one by one to come see it.

"Yeah, it's, uh, really nice, Vision," Rhodes nodded his head. "Good find."

"Very beautiful," Steve smiled.

"Really cool," Sam nodded. "Where did you say you got it?"

"I like it," Wanda tilted her head. "Especially the colors."

Interestingly, Natasha appeared to appreciate it most. "The reds here, at the end of the petals, they seem to indicate a transformation, don't you think?"

"Hm, yes," Vision agreed, smiling.

"It fades from serene to passionate," she paused. "Wild, even."

"Yes, I thought so too." Vision turned to her, "I must admit, I'm surprised, Miss Romanoff. I did not know you had such a interest in art."

Shrugging, Natasha said, "I've been to a few galleries." For work - spying, seducing - pretending to be someone she wasn't. Somewhere along the line, she'd picked up an appreciation for the canvas and brush. "Seen a few painting here and there." Stolen a few too.

"You are welcome to come view it anytime you like," he beamed.

"Sure," she agreed. "Thanks, Vision, for sharing this."


	2. Original Head Full of Ghosts

A/N: this is how I first wrote Head Full of Ghosts

* * *

Soft gasps could be heard in the room as the two figures, entwined, moved as one. In the center of her bed he sat, her arms around his neck. Vision gasped as Wanda, straddling his lap, rolled her hips more fiercely. His hand between them, long, dexterous fingerings teased her slick insides, the heal of his palm grinding against her sensitive nub, while his other held tightly to her ass.

She was close now, he knew, as he began to lose himself in the mirror of her pleasure. Caught up in the sensations, he felt himself slip, falling into the chaos of her.

"Vision?" Wanda caressed his face, searching his eyes, when she felt him fading. "Stay with me."

Immediately, he righted himself and matched her, pushing them both closer to the edge. A groan sounded from him and she covered his mouth with her hand. It was, after all, the middle of the day and anyone could hear them.

"Shh," she warned before leaning in and sucking at his throat, earning herself more moans from beneath her palm. She hadn't time to enjoy her torture of him before, *'there!'* her mind cried before she tumbled over the edge. Burying her face in his neck, her moans sounded from behind her firmly pressed lips. Hot breath wet her palm as he nipped at her fingers, riding her climax with her.

When at last it faded, she brought her hand to rest on his cheek, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

Spent, Vision leaned back, bringing her with him, to rest on the mattress. Panting atop his chest, Wanda brought her legs to rest between his own, grateful, not for the first time, that he was synthetic and without any genitals for her to accidentally injure.

Vision caressed her spine with one hand while the other, that had brought her to climax, moved to his mouth. Turning to glance up at him, she gave him to a strange questioning look.

"I do so enjoy the taste of you," he responded nonchalantly, his digits disappearing between his lips.

Wanda buried her face in his chest, slightly embarrassed. She supposed that was one of the quirks of being in a relationship with someone as honest and innocent as Vision. *'you are so strange'*

He disregarded her tone. She obviously had no idea how intoxicating she was to him.

Rolling her eyes, she giggled against him. "I could nap here," she snuggled into him.

"You are welcome to," he combed his hand through her hair. At that moment, nothing would please him more.

xx

Wanda awoke sometime later as she felt herself shifted, Vision gently phasing through her. "I must go," he whispered.

"So soon?"

He kissed her forehead, "I am sorry."

She gripped his arm as he began to pull away. "What if ... What if you didn't have to go?"

"Wanda—"

"What if we both left?"

His eyes widened in alarm. "If you come back to the U.S. and they find you," he paused. He would not allow them to take her again. He would stand against the government, the very world, to keep her safe.

"Not there," she scooted closer. "What if we went somewhere else? Somewhere we could be together?"

An image appeared in their minds, conjured by them both: waking up every morning together, enjoying their day, doing mundane tasks with one another, going to bed every evening together.

Vision peered into Wanda's grey eyes, knowing full well he could not resist, could not deny her. "Alright."

In matter of minutes, both were dressed, and Wanda had a bag packed.

"We'll need one more thing," she said. And with ease, Vision stepped into Steve's room and acquired the burner phone marked 'N.'

She slipped the phone into her pocket, and arms wrapped around Vision, they sailed off.

xx

Natasha was guarding the door of the dilapidated home, while Bruce administered medicine to the ailing man on the cot, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Strange, now was not the date or time she was expecting a call from the only person who knew this number. She looked to Bruce, who nodded that he was okay.

Stepping outside, she flipped it open. "Is everything alright?" she answered, forgoing pleasantries.

"Nat?" a familiar voice called.

"Wa—" she caught herself, "Whiskey, where's Sierra One? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, its fine." Another familiar calm voice sounded from her end.

"Is that Victor? What's going on?"

"We left," she said, unable to remember the code for Wakanda. "The place I was at."

"Who's 'we?'"

"Victor and myself," she coughed.

"You left?"

"Yeah."

"The two of you?"

"Yeah."

"Hold on. You *ran away?* Is that what you're saying? Where are you now? Are you in the States?"

"No, no. We're in Italy, but, um—"

"Are you safe?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Do you have any money?"

"Well, no—"

"Where are you headed?"

"Um, Ireland maybe? We hadn't decided," her voice cracked. "We were just—we wanted—"

Natasha groaned. Movement was heard from the other end.

"Hello, this is—" Vision said.

"I know."

"Oh, right. Well, it seems we have found ourselves in a bit of trouble. Whiskey has fallen ill. I believe she picked up something in Egypt."

"Where are you now? No specifics."

"We are currently squatting in an abandoned home," he dismayed.

"When was the last time she ate?"

"As we have no funds, food has been difficult to procure. She has a fever and has not eaten in 37 hours."

"Why? You can walk through walls!"

"Miss November, are you suggesting—"

"Yes!"

"I don't believe I—"

"If you want her to eat, you will steal for her, Victor. Do you understand?"

"I do. Of course."

"Good. Now listen to me very carefully. After I hang up, text me the address of the second nearest cafe to your location."

"Alright."

Natasha then handed the phone to Bruce who spoke to Vision about Wanda's symptoms and suggested the proper medicine.

After they hung up, Vision did as he was told and sent the address. He held Wanda in his arms as her stomach growled. She was exhausted. Unable to sleep while they traveled, and had not properly rested for nearly three days.

After a minute, the phone buzzed with a message. "Stay put. Tomorrow evening someone will be at the cafe to pick you up. Use necessary precautions. Until then, stay low. Feed her."

That night, after closing hours, Vision ventured out to a pharmacy and a convenience store, procuring what he hoped to believe we're the necessities. He felt guilty for stealing, but hopeful that his misdeeds would aid Wanda.

And it did. While Wanda was not yet at 100%, she was much better, even more so after eating.

That evening, hoodies up, they waited around the corner from the cafe. Once dusk fell, they began to wonder if their contact was going to show. Vision was hit in the head with a paper ball. Opening it, it read, 'follow.' They glanced around to see only a single man walking away from them a block down the street. They followed him, at a distance, until they reached the bustle of the nightlife crowd. For a moment they thought they'd lost the man until Wanda felt herself being caught by the arm. She glanced up to a familiar face.

"Clint?"

"Hey, kid, Vision," he greeted, in his Hawkeye attire. "Let's get out of here."

They walked in silence a few minutes to an old pickup truck. "Get in, we got a ways to go."

During the drive, Wanda finally slept, curled up to Vision. Once they finally exited the city, Clint spoke, "You're supposed to be looking out for her."

"I—" Vision had no response.

The remainder of the drive was in silence.

When Wanda awoke, it was dawn and they were still driving. "Where are we?" She glanced outside as many small cottages passed them by.

"Almost home," Clint responded.

Vision was quiet. His mind closed.

Finally they turned up a long driveway to a small two story house. Outside, many stacks of wood planks and tools set to the side.

They all climbed out of the sedan and made their way to the door. Wanda kept her hand in Vision's as they approached.

The door opened with Laura, and two kids rushed outside to greet their father.

"You must be exhausted," she said and led them up the narrow stairway to a small guest room with a simple twin bed and dresser, formally Natasha's room. "I'll leave you to it," Laura said and left. Leaving them with Clint.

"So," he began. "Just what were you thinking? Running away like a couple of idiots?"

"Clint," Wanda began.

But Clint was addressing Vision. "You. You're supposed to be the logical one here."

Vision remained silent.

"Do you have any idea what you did? When Cap finally got ahold of Nat, he was worried sick. Searched half of Wakanda looking for her body."

She stepped in front of Vision. "We didn't think—"

"That's right, you didn't think. You should've stayed in Wakanda. The two of you—"

Suddenly one of the children screamed. At first, Wanda thought it to be a happy cry that children often made when they played. But Clint knew better. "We were tailed," he growled. In a flash, he flew from the room, down the stairs and into the living room. Vision and Wanda on his heels. A dozen well armed black ops soldiers greeted them, three holding his two children and Laura.

"Who sent you? What do you want?" Clint demanded.

They responded in a language Wanda didn't understand.

"Don't hurt them, okay? I'll do whatever you want."

A soldier stepped forward. "Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff," she could make out their names but couldn't comprehend the rest.

Clint's eyes were on his children, as they wept. "It's going to be okay, kids. Don't worry."

With Vision beside her, she knew they could easily overpower the armed men, but she couldn't penetrate Vision's mind to communicate with him. Glancing to him, she found him still, eyes on Clint.

Lila began to cry out for her father as he surrendered himself and was cuffed.

As the soldiers began to move for her, Vision stepped between them. "You will not take her," he said sternly.

Immediately, the men raised their weapons to him and began to shout.

"You will not take her," he said again.

*'Vizh,'* she tried, but still could not reach him. Her energy gathered in the palms of her hands.

"Not here!" Clint called as he was pushed out the door.

The television turned on at full volume, the kids began to scream, Laura began to scream while Clint could be heard from outside, "Not here! Not here!"

One man attempted to reach around Vision, but in a blur, his arm was relocated, now bending the wrong way. Just as she heard the man cry out in agony, a shot rang out.

*bang*

Wanda awoke with a start and nearly fell off Vision's chest. The two were still in her bed in her barracks room in Wakanda. She lifted herself and gazed down at Vision, who merely peered back.

"You were there," she whispered. Through their link could he possibly...?

He nodded. "Even in your dreams, I could not let them take you."

Since their first kiss, it was her sincerest desire that they could be together. Not for a half a day every couple of weeks, but truly together perminately. She had entertained the idea hundreds of times, but now she understood the impossibility of it all.

Leaning down, she buried her face in his neck with a defeated sigh.

xx

"Captain Rogers," Steve heard behind him. He turned to see Vision entering the common room.

"Vision, I didn't know you were here."

"Actually I was just about to take my leave. However I was hoping to have a quick word with you."

"Sure, what about?"

"Miss Maximoff," Vision rounded the table. "As you may know, she is very dear to me."

Steve smirked. "Yeah, I caught that."

Vision smiled in return. "I simply wanted to thank you, Captain Rogers. For freeing her from the Raft, and watching over her. It means a great deal to me."

"Sure, of course. She's my friend. And I look out for my friends." He then added, "I'd look out for you, too, ya know."

Vision glanced at the floor. "I appreciate the gesture. However, I cannot leave Mr Stark at the moment. If I were to depart, the government would perceive it as his inability to control me. I do not wish to know how they would react."

Steve nodded. "I understand. You're always welcome here, know that."

"Thank you, Captain Rogers."

* * *

A/N: In the end, I didn't like the dream sequence, it just felt so forced, but I wanted answer to 'why don't they just run away together' without having to spell it out.


	3. Boats and Birds

a/n: I'm kicking myself. This would've been great in R&G.

* * *

On Wanda's twelfth night of living at the Avenger's facility, an intruder had been detected…

The alarm had sounded at 2:13 am, prompting the Avengers, half-clad in their pajamas, into action. Natasha eyed the security monitors. Steve armed himself and set about investigating the grounds. Vision was conducting a room by room sweep. Meanwhile, Wanda stayed in the kitchen near the cutlery, a statue pulsing with anxiety and fear for endless minutes.

She sensed him, like a breath, before he appeared, phasing up from the floor beside her.

"What is it?" she asked, voice muffled behind the sleeve of her pajama.

Vision spoke calmly as his eyes surveyed the area, calculating. "All is well," he said. "Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff are addressing our unwelcomed guest. A reporter, it seems."

With a windless push, Wanda found herself leaning closer to him. It was reassuring to have someone beside her again. Her new 'teammates,' as they called themselves, still kept their distance, even in training.

She wished more than anything that Pietro was here, with a warm arm around her and soothing words in her ear. Wanda's fingers twitched, a muscle memory as old as she, flared to life. And without another thought, her hand found his.

Vision did not startle, merely tilting his head to verify what his senses were relaying to be true. No one ever willingly touched him, aside from Tony's pokes and prods. But this action was not on behalf of curiosity or 'science.' This was somehow different. Considering the events, he concluded she was seeking comfort. He performed what he hoped was the correct reaction and curled his fingers around her petite palm.

For a few brief seconds all was well.

Wanda's eyes widened in horror as she realized what she'd done. _'Idiot!_ ' she cursed herself.

He wasn't Pietro.

Pietro wasn't here.

Pietro was dead.

So what the hell was she doing? Her hand slipped out, back into the safety of her sleeve as she pulled her arms closer to her chest. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Vision wanted to reply that she had nothing to apologize for. He'd be happy to hold her hand or perform any function that would bring her comfort and ease her mind. But then Steve was sounding over the intercom, informing them the area was clear and they were free to return to their quarters.

Silently, Wanda shuffled away while Vision gazed thoughtfully at her retreating back.

It was after this event that Vision made an adjustment to his regular activity. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he fitted himself to Wanda's right, should she ever require his hand again.


End file.
